LOUIS
Sad news this morning: Louis is gone.
It’s not that we weren’t expecting it, he was very ill. It is good to think that his suffering is
over, but those of us who loved him must now shift into a new, unwelcome reality. Mourning his loss with be felt in different
degrees – from Robert’s acute pain in the loss of his life partner, the love of
his life, to the long-distance sad absence of a friend and brother-in-law for
me, plus the multitude of people in between – friends, colleagues, neighbours,
parishioners – he touched so many people in his 67 years.
I spent the waning hours of Louis’ life reflecting on how he
has enriched mine. If he were to hear me
say that he would no doubt down-play my words, but I also hope that he would take
the praise to heart. The honesty he
lived in his life forced me to grow as a person too. I owe him.
We met when we were just kids, classmates in grade six I
think, growing up in rural Saskatchewan in the ‘60s and ‘70s. You’d be hard pressed to find a more mundane,
ordinary existence … school work, family life, daydreaming about future plans. We lived in the insulated bubble of ‘normal’
our parents provided us by keeping awkward topics out of daily discourse,
creating a rose-coloured-glasses type of world which neatly sorted people into ‘natural’
and ‘taboo’. I can’t imagine what it felt
like to grow up ‘taboo’.
Almost certainly though, it caused Louis’ growth as a human
being to far outstrip mine. He grew to
be an intelligent, caring, sensitive, giving adult. Conversations with him challenged me to think
much deeper than I normally would. Meals
he hosted were delicious and fun. I
loved his sharp sense of humor. Long
before he told us he was gay he had established who he really was – a warm and wonderful
human being. I was so comfortable with
these truths that his coming out left me to reconcile what society said about ‘taboo’
people and what I could see with my own eyes.
I had some growing of my own to do.
Not that it was easy.
Societal inuendo, self-proclaimed comfort zones, and outright public fear-mongering
left me bouncing between shame, anger and self-righteousness, but I always
seemed to end up asking myself “If it’s this bad for me, an observer, what was
it like for him to live it?” With this
question in mind it was impossible not to grow.
He was a person of kindness and integrity, of intelligence and
education, someone whose voice and laughter sounded just like his mother’s. This latest piece of information about him
didn’t alter any of these well-established qualities. In the end I realized it was much more beneficial
to accept and learn from others than to stand back and judge them. I have Louis to thank for that.
He lived a full, happy life.
He travelled in his career as an air steward, seeing much of the world. He even arranged to be in Beijing when we
were so that he could buy us supper. His
first career choice was the priesthood and he fulfilled that dream too, serving
his God and his parish in his community in Nova Scotia. But, the happiest, most precious thing in his
life was to find Robert and have the solid, loving, mutual support relationship
that all human beings long for – and deserve.
All day long I’ve been reading and rereading the tributes
sent to Robert and the rest of the family.
One of them came close to what I’ve been trying to say here – that Louis
and Robert’s relationship had forced the writer out of her pre-conceived notions
and into growth and an awareness she had lacked before. It’s strange to use the word ‘force’ when
speaking of Louis, he was a gentle soul and led by simple example. In another way, though, his quiet resolve was
indeed a force to be reckoned with.
R.I.P. Louis. We are
better people for having known you.
